


Nonlinear

by StrictlyNoFrills



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Fíli Friday, Hurt/Comfort, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23713315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrictlyNoFrills/pseuds/StrictlyNoFrills
Summary: For dwarves, who love all things geometrical and straightforward, the fact that recovery is not a linear process is entirely maddening.So, it's a good thing Fili doesn't have to cope with the aftermath of the battle alone.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Fíli
Comments: 36
Kudos: 147





	Nonlinear

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Fili Friday! (Just barely, but I still made it!)
> 
> Tumblr is eating my posts, so I won't be able to crosspost this for now. (Hey, those of you on Tumblr who are wondering where I've been all day! :) I do believe I've been thrown in Tumblr Jail, for reasons unknown to me. We'll see how long that lasts. Hope you all are doing well! ♥)

White hot agony lanced through his middle as he stared helplessly down into the faces of his loved ones, still urging them to get as far away from the tower as possible. He could barely feel himself coughing up blood as pressure at his back forced him forward, the blade severing his tissues and organs, slicing him open further as he slid down and began to fall at a rapidly growing pace towards the desolate ground below.

* * *

With a gasp, his eyes snapped open, and he gazed sightlessly out into the surrounding gloom. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the pounding of his heart and and his frantic breathing, which sounded louder than the bellows in the forge he and Kili shared with their uncle in Ered Luin.

Where was he?

He clenched his fists into the blankets and furs draped around his body and then shoved them down, in desperate need of the cool air which rose up to greet him and dry the sweat dripping in pungent rivulets down his trembling muscles. He braced himself against the mattress beneath his body and then sat up, scooting until his back met what felt like the wood of a headboard. The smooth surface felt strange against his tacky skin, but at least it was solid. 

Soft rustling registered in his ears as his heart began to slow and his lungs no longer sucked in such great gusts of air, and then he heard a slow, quiet inhale, followed by a muzzy, “Fili? What’s wrong?”

At the sound of the voice he would know anywhere, Fili snapped back to himself, taking in a shaking breath before letting it out. His shoulders lowered against the headboard, no longer taut with tension, and he reached out one hand to grasp for his wife’s which he could just barely make out in the pitch blackness of their windowless bedchamber.

“Nothing, amralime. I’m fine.”

Bilbo gripped his hand with her smaller, more delicate one and then shifted around on the bed until she could rest against his side. “Mhmm. And if you believe that, I have a bridge to sell you. It even has railings.”

He huffed in spite of the way the dream still clung to the insides of his brain, though his heart had finally slowed from a gallop to a cantor. “You hobbits and your railings.”

“You dwarves and your ridiculous aesthetics.” She sighed and squeezed his hand. “Talk to me.”

“…I was dreaming of the battle.” There was no need to specify which one.

“Oh, love,” Bilbo said, bringing Fili’s hand up to her lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I’m so sorry.” There was no need to ask if there was anything she could do, either. Fili had revisited what should have been his last moments on Arda often enough over the past six months that Bilbo knew she was already doing all that she could. So long as she was there beside him, her gentle, supportive presence keeping him grounded, he would eventually calm and come to accept that all was well.

He withdrew his hand only to wrap his arm around her waist, bringing her even closer so that he could lean down and press his face into her hair. If feeling his sweat against her own skin bothered her, Bilbo made no mention of it. On nights such as this, she never did, though if he ever tried to embrace her after spending hours at his craft or in training, she would wrinkle her little nose and send him off for a bath. He took another long, deep inhale, and Bilbo’s scent, all fresh earth and green, growing things and baked good straight out of the oven, filled his nostrils and soothed him even further, and he murmured, “Have I told you that I love you lately?”

Bilbo chuckled lightly. “It’s been hours since the last time you said it, husband. I do believe you’ve been terribly remiss.”

His lips pulled into a faint grin, knowing she was trying to distract him and perfectly willing to allow it as he remembered whispering the words into the delightfully exotic point of her ear right before they both drifted off. “You’re absolutely right. How could I be so derelict in my duties?”

“Well,” she said dryly, “even crown princes have to sleep sometime.”

Fili rolled his eyes. “Tell that to Thorin, would you?” he asked, thinking of the early start which awaited him and regretting somewhat their success in taking back the mountain.

Never one to be idle for long, Fili had kept a full schedule back in Ered Luin, helping out wherever and however he could, but his life in Erebor put his past to shame. His days were an endless blur of meetings and rebuilding efforts and shadowing Thorin and Balin as they combed through the records of the old laws and traditions of their people, determining what would work for the dwarves of Erebor as they were now and what was best left to history after everything their people had been through.

He had been so busy in the three months since Oin declared him fit for duty that it felt as though he hardly remembered what his little brother, who now spent all his time working with Dwalin or leading patrols and hunting parties, looked like, and he only remembered what Bilbo looked like by candlelight, as he only saw her early in the morning and late at night.

“You could tell him he’s working you too hard,” Bilbo said. “He would understand.”

Fili shook his head and then decided to blame the lateness of the hour and the lingering disorientation of his nightmare for the brief moment when he failed to remember that Bilbo could not see him even marginally in the dark. “I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Fili, the only way you could disappoint your uncle is if you run yourself into the ground. You have no idea… You cannot possibly understand…” Her voice wavered, and she grew quiet for several long moments before she swallowed audibly and said, “We came _this close_ to losing you and your brother. If you could have seen the look on Thorin’s face when Oin told him that you might not make it…” She stopped again and squeezed his hand hard enough that his bones would have creaked, had she been a dam. “That dwarf loves you and Kili more than anything in this world, and the last thing he would want would be for you to hurt yourself because you were afraid of failing to live up to expectations you’ve dreamed up for yourself. The only person in this mountain who expects you to be perfect is you. So, you know what? If you won’t tell him that you’ve been working too hard lately, then I will.”

“Bilbo-“

“No, Fili. I’m sorry, but I know you too well. You may be able to fool everyone else into believing that you’re not struggling, but they don’t share a bed with you. I know exactly how much sleep you’re _not_ getting, so something is going to have to give, and that’s the end of it.” He heard the faintest hint of smile in her voice when she told him, “In about ten to eighteen months, neither of us will even remember what the word sleep means, so we may as well enjoy it while we still can.”

“Ten to eighteen months?” Fili echoed, certain he was missing something. That timeframe seemed both oddly specific and far too broad at the same time.

“Oin isn’t sure what the differences in our physiology will mean for me.”

“The… what?” Fili wasn’t stupid. In fact, by all accounts, he was regarded as fairly sharp. He knew what all of those words meant, but for some reason, he still could not understand what Bilbo was hinting at.

She laughed, though not unkindly, and reached for his free hand to bring it to rest upon her slightly round belly – an achievement for which Fili felt exceptionally proud, as it had taken far too long for his wife to recover from her extended privation during the quest. No matter how many years they both lived, Fili was determined to never allow his wife to go without as she had on the journey to Erebor ever again.

“I’m trying to tell you that I’m with child, you goose. I would have told you before we went to sleep, but we were – distracted.”

They certainly had been. There was a reason his hand was pressed against bare skin rather than the soft fabric of one of her nightgowns, after all.

Then his brain finally pieced all of the facts together and Fili froze.

“Bilbo?” His voice sounded small and breathless to his own ears.

They hadn’t been sure they would be able to have children, given that theirs was the first union between a hobbit and dwarf. It was one of the few things Fili had regretted about their marriage, the others being Bilbo’s mixed reception among the dwarves of Erebor once they finally reached the mountain a month ago, and the many miles which separated Bilbo from her family; it had been difficult enough for Bilbo to be the only hobbit among a Company of fourteen. One hobbit lass among a population of several thousand was isolating in the extreme.

Thank Mahal for Tauriel, who could at least empathize with Bilbo’s situation, even if she could not provide the hobbitish companionship Bilbo craved.

But now there _would_ be another hobbit in the mountain, if only in part.

Bilbo burrowed even deeper against his side and pressed his hand more firmly against her belly. “Congratulations, Adad.”

Fili’s heart swelled in his chest, full of a fierce love for his wife and the fledgling life growing beneath his palm. “Thank you, ghivashel,” he whispered wonderingly. “Thank you for this wonderful gift.”

His thoughts returned briefly to his nightmare and the difficulties they had faced during the quest, and he pressed a jealous kiss to the crown of his wife’s head and then gently rubbed his thumb across the soft skin over her womb. Nothing like that would ever happen to their child. Fili would spend the rest of his life ensuring it.


End file.
